


Hot Like Burning

by lavenderlotion



Series: Stalion Appreciation Week [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Stiles Stilinski, Blind Character, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 12:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Fuck!” Stiles cursed, locking his jaw and grinding his teeth together—the only thing keeping the pained whimper in as steaming hot coffee spilled all over his chest. “Watch where you’re going!”“Well, I will certainly try that next time,” drawled a smooth, accented voice and Stiles flushed even further, his, uh, preference for accents not helping him one bit.“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed out, looking up at the, well, perfect man before him. Sharp jaw? Check. Stubble? Check. Taller than him? Check. Hot as burning? Check. “I am so, so sorry.”





	Hot Like Burning

**Author's Note:**

> For day one of Stalion week!

Stiles was having a bad day. Stiles was having a...well, he was having a rather  _ sad _ day. In truth, he had never expected him and Malia to last. They had gotten together during their senior year of high school and had attempted to do the whole long distance thing when they graduated. 

It hadn’t lasted. Not that he had expected it to, mind you, but it still hurt. As...bad as their relationship could be, and how mismatched they had always been, he had truly cared for her. He would miss just— _ having _ someone. Someone he could call when being away from everyone he knew became too much, someone he could text throughout the day, desperately trying to push away how  _ lonely  _ he was. Or, to rant about his course load, and how he had very much taken on  _ too  _ much, and more often than not felt like he was drowning in it all. 

But it was fine. He’d be fine. He just had to get through three more months, and he’d be done with the school year. He’d have an entire summer to spend with his dad and with Scott, and he’d be fine. He just had to make it through a few more months, put up with smarmy lab partners he hated and suffer through a few more group projects and he’d—he’d be fine. Totally. 

He’d probably be even better than fine if he could wallow in his own self-pity. Dragging himself out of the house was not something he wanted to do,  _ at all _ , but Lydia would be mad at him if she knew all he was doing was moping around. Just the potential of having to face Lydia’s wrath was enough to get him moving, even if he mourned the warm cocoon that was his bed. Lydia was terrifying, and Stiles knew she’d be having  _ words _ with him if she found out he hadn’t left his bed in three days. And, somehow, Lydia always found out. 

Which, was how and why he found himself getting coffee, dressed up in old jeans and an older hoodie, half awake and half-conscious, waiting for his drink. The coffee shop was quiet, though it was still rather early and Stiles was in no rush. He hummed along with whatever the radio was playing, something soft and folkish, swaying a little back and forth.

When his name was called he quickly collected his coffee, giving the barista a thankful smile. He hadn’t been sleeping well, even worse than usual, and he was in desperate need of caffeine. Stiles closed his eyes just for a second, just long enough to take a small sip of his coffee—which,  _ ow _ , that was fucking hot—before he took a step forward. He finally opened his eyes and promptly ran straight into someone, his hands colliding with a man's chest and causing his coffee cup to tip back towards himself.

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed, locking his jaw and grinding his teeth together—the only thing keeping the pained whimper in as  _ steaming hot coffee _  spilled all over his chest. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Well, I will certainly try that next time,” drawled a smooth, accented voice and Stiles flushed even further, his, uh,  _ preference _  for accents not helping him one bit.

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” Stiles breathed out, looking up at the, well,  _ perfect _  man before him. Sharp jaw? Check. Stubble? Check. Taller than him? Check.  _ Hot as burning? Check _ . “I am so,  _ so _  sorry.”

Because those, those were not the type of sunglasses people usually wore: thick rimmed and completely blacked out. Stiles wasn’t even surprised to see the white cane the man was holding, and shame burned through Stiles' gut far hotter than the boiling coffee that was burning Stiles’ chest. 

“That is alright. Clearly, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” the man said, and Stiles could only  _ hope _ the tilt to his voice was meant to be teasing.

“I-I really am, uhm, sorry. Very, very sorry, because I totally should have looked up, and I’m so sorry for what I said, too, because that was totally not cool. Oh god, I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I really didn’t mean anyth—,”

“Do calm down,” the man said, raising his palms to Stiles. “I am not mad at the comment made, darling. In fact, I found it rather humours.”

“Oh! Well, that—that’s good!” Stiles said, pulling a face at his own awkwardness.  _ God _ , he was hopeless. “I-I’m Stiles, by the way. In case—in case you wanted to know. For whatever reason.”

“Very unique,” Deucalion told him, his smile growing wider.

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said, a touch defensive. 

“Now, now. I didn't mean that in any way. My own name is rather rare,” the man said, holding out a hand and smiling when Stiles took it. “Deucalion. Pleasure to meet you, Stiles.”

“Y-yeah. You too,” Stiles said, and was grateful that Deucalion wouldn’t be able to see his blush.

“Well, since this is clearly my fault for not watching where I was going,” Deucalion said, a little half smile pulling at his lips and dear god, Stiles was already half in love, “let me buy you another coffee, to make it up to you.”

“I—” Stiles began, and even though he wanted nothing more than to say yes, his shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably, the hot material hurting, “I would love to. Really. But, I sort of spilled that coffee all over myself?”

The man snorted,  _ snorted _ , and Stiles wanted to fist bump, not even sure what he had said that had been funny, but proud of himself nonetheless. “Well of course you did. You didn’t get any on me, and it had to go somewhere.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. He cursed himself, mentally, and tried to come up with  _ anything _ to say. “Do you want my number?”

“My, my Stiles, how very forward of you,” Deucalion was definitely teasing that time, and Stiles let himself smile just a little. He watched Deucalion pull a phone out of his back pocket, pressing down on the home button before bringing it to close to his lips. “Create new contact. Here.”

Stiles took the phone when it was passed to him, making sure to brush over Deucalion's fingers so the man knew he had it. He put his number in, sending himself a text in a sudden bout of insecurity. 

“All done,” Stiles said, taking Deucalion’s hand lightly and placing the phone in his grip

“Excellent. Thank you, Stiles.”

“W-would it be alright if I called you? About the coffee, of course,” Stiles added, picking at his cuticle in a show of nerves. 

“That would be very much alright. I look forward to hearing from you,” the smile Deucalion sent him was the largest he had gotten so far, and Stiles’ own smile felt like it was going to split his face open.

“O-okay, well. I have to go now. Change my shirt and stuff,” 

“And call me,” Deucalion reminded, his smile softening.

“Yeah, and call you,” Stiles said in nearly a whisper, stepping to the side. “Bye.”

Stiles’ face was burning with embarrassment as the sounds of the coffee shop came rushing back to him. He wasn’t at all surprised to find the entire handful of people inside staring at them, and he flushed even darker, hurrying out of the shop. And even through the embarrassment, he couldn’t get the smile off his face.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sad that this is going to be my only contribution to this week. I wanted to do so much more, but god, life has gotten in the fucking way.   
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
